


Lunacy

by Miah_Arthur



Series: Vesemir Gets Freaky [3]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Backstory, Come Inflation, Drinking to Cope, Enthusiastic Consent, Fisting, Knotting, M/M, Other, Pre-Canon, Predator/Prey, Rough Sex, Sexual Content, Wolf Instincts, Young Vesemir, belly bulge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-17 03:40:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29711073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miah_Arthur/pseuds/Miah_Arthur
Summary: Vesemir is in a funk after the young Cat Witchers are lured away by a cruel mage's promises. A born werewolf with no mate suggests a mutually beneficial arrangement.
Relationships: Vesemir (The Witcher)/Original Character(s)
Series: Vesemir Gets Freaky [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1979416
Comments: 4
Kudos: 32
Collections: Sugar and Spice Witcher Bingo, The Witcher Monsterprom 2021





	1. Drink

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my beta Hircine_Taoist
> 
> Sugar and Spice Bingo Squares: Chapter one: Rough Sex, Chapter two: Predator/Prey

#  **Lunacy**

###  **Chapter One: Drink**

Vesemir had chased the bottom of the bottle with every coin he earned this spring. 

The idea of being alone with Moven scared the piss out of him. He’d seen enough Trials of the Grasses to know that Moven’s version of the Trials displayed cruelty beyond measure. If Vesemir were a better man, maybe he would have had the guts to slaughter the mage in his sleep, even if it meant death at the hands of the remaining mages. But he wasn’t a better man. The thought of facing Moven froze him in place, kept him awake at night. And now? Now, Moven had seduced over a dozen young witchers into stealing away with him. 

Youngsters that didn’t remember a world with only one group of witchers. Youngsters that’d never stood watch with a boy as he went through the Trials. Vesemir stood far more than his share of watches with the boys. He’d thought to spare others the torment. Would the youngsters have been such easy prey to Moven’s manipulations if they had taken their turns at watch if he hadn’t tried to protect them?

He knew each of those young men. Three of them he’d brought to Morgraig himself. Relcin, Telt, Gelir. He remembered finding each of them. Holding them and gaining their trust as he took them to Morgraig. Watching them train and go through the Trials and train further. Fine witchers they’d become. 

Vesemir tipped up his bottle. Empty. 

He scrubbed his hand over his face and glanced around the shabby little tavern. He needed another contract to buy more booze. Three days he’d sat here, drinking the coin the town had paid him to deal with their drowner nest problem, spending it right back into the town’s economy. They didn’t seem to have a problem with that. The tavern wavered as he swung his head around in hopes that a wealthy and stupid noble had appeared to offer him coin. 

The same group of farmers here every night sat huddled around the three tables the tavern boasted. Several of them jerked their gaze back to their food when he scanned over them. They had a pool running on him, passing out or puking. Maybe he should have laid a bet; then he wouldn’t be without liquor. He should move on. But like a lot of things he should’ve done in his life, he didn’t. He sat on his corner stool, slumped against the wall, waiting out the drink in his system.

He didn’t pass out; he only closed his eyes for a few moments. He was sure. That he didn’t notice the muscular, broad-shouldered, dangerous-looking man sitting next to him until the man grabbed his shoulder and shook him was pure coincidence. Adrenalin shot through Vesemir. He tensed to leap off the stool and defend himself, but the stranger leaned back, his hands held up. 

“Whoa, whoa. I’m not here to be a threat.”

Vesemir looked at the empty bottle overturned on the counter. “If you’re not here to provide me with liquor or the opportunity to earn coin to buy liquor, then piss off.”

The stranger sniffed the air and grinned smugly. “I have something you need more than booze or coin.”

“I doubt, but talking is free.” The stranger’s mannerisms struck something in Vesemir’s memory, but he couldn’t pin it down through the haze of alcohol. The stranger was taller than him. His eyes were deep, dark pools that Vesemir could easily lose himself in. 

“You strike me as a man who needs a powerful distraction. Danger gets your blood"—his gaze dropped to Vesemir’s crotch—“pumping.”

Vesemir swallowed hard. He was too drunk to get more than half an erection, but his cock made a valiant attempt. “And I suppose you think you’re dangerous to a witcher?”

The man leaned forward, his voice a growl, “I do.” His eyes flashed, changing from brown to a bright amber that caught the flicker of the oil lamps.

“Werewolf?” Vesemir murmured. 

“Natural born. Fully in control.”

“What kind of danger are you proposing?”

“I don’t have a mate.”

Vesemir snorted. “Don’t look at me. Witchers don’t marry.”

“It’s not that. It’s” He glanced around before continuing. “It’s the chase. I can fuck humans. Look at me. I have no trouble finding humans to bed—in this form, of course. But I crave the chase. Playing the predator hunting for my partner, chasing through the woods. The capture. And then the fucking.” He licked his lips, and the odor of his arousal filled Vesemir’s senses.

“What makes you think I’d rather let a wolf fuck me than gut you with silver?”

He smirked. “You think my nose can’t trace the scent of grave hag juices?”

Vesemir twitched back. He never thought the scent could linger so long. He hadn’t been able to smell her on his things for weeks. 

“You’ve not washed your codpiece since you visited Grauti, have you?”

Vesemir’s head spun, trying to keep up with the conversation. “You know Grauti?”

With a sigh, the werewolf stood up. “I have a bed upstairs if you don’t have one. Sleep it off in a bed, and we’ll talk tomorrow.”

Vesemir stared at the ladder to the loft blearily, then looked back at the werewolf who waved toward it with a flourish. The wolf wanted a chase and he was too drunk to run now. Sleeping it off first was smart. He stood and stumbled against the werewolf. The man was solid muscle underneath enough padding to make him comfortable to lean against. 

"I'll help you up the ladder."

“Good idea.” He didn't _need_ to cling to the other man to walk, but it felt nice and he smelled so good, rosemary soap and the musk of arousal and Vesemir didn't want to let go. 

* * *

Light cut into Vesemir’s eyes, piercing into his brain. His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, and the taste was foul. His entire body ached. He pried his eyes open and took in his surroundings through crusty lashes. It was the rental loft above the bar. The ceiling was low; the space cramped. Werewolf odor permeated the air. Vesemir shifted onto his elbows. 

The man who’d propositioned him the night before lay curled on a second mattress. Small mercies that the man had escaped the embarrassing clinginess Vesemir knew he was prone to when that drunk. The slow heart rate and even breathing assured Vesemir the werewolf was asleep. He had stripped to his smalls, exposing muscles and tanned skin, a few scars but not enough to scare away the humans. His black hair curled around his shoulders. A lock hung over his face in a way that made Vesemir want to brush it away. He’d always expected born werewolves to be shaggy beasts in their human guise. This man’s chest was largely bare. A smattering of hair highlighted his chest, and a sparse trail led Vesemir’s eyes to the man’s groin. 

“Like what you see?”

The man wore a smug expression as he waved his hand over his body. 

Vesemir pinched the bridge of his nose. “Was I drunk enough to hallucinate, or did you walk up to a witcher and suggest that I let you chase me through the woods and fuck me when you catch me?”

“Oh, you were plenty drunk, but you’ve got the gist of it.”

“Oh.” Vesemir collapsed onto the mattress. He’d visited Grauti as he did every spring, but he hadn’t been able to bring himself to enjoy their normal sex. She sent him on his way when it became apparent he’d drink her entire supply of mead if she let him. 

Their meetings were intense but comfortable after more than thirty years. There was no danger in it anymore. It felt good in a way he couldn’t get anywhere else, but he knew Grauti wouldn’t harm him. This werewolf was an unknown. He claimed to be in full control, but what did that mean to a natural-born wolf? He must be used to the heavy, shaggy coats of female wolves with their loose napes and bodies designed to fit a werewolf cock. 

How big is it?

Vesemir licked his lips. He was in. He didn’t want to admit it, and yet the wolf had to be smelling his interest. Melitele save him, but the wolf was right. He needed this to break out of his drunken rut. 

“I’m in,” he said at last. 

The wolf rolled up to his knees, grinning. “I was right about you, Witcher. No questions. No caveats.”

Vesemir sat up, ignoring the pounding in his head. “Do you want that?”

“I want to fuck you before the chase. You can call it off after if you want.”

“Why?”

“You’ll see. Come to my cabin. Bathe. We test your vaunted witcher endurance. A day or two to recover and the chase.”

“A commitment then.”

“A week at most.” He sniffed. “You need feeding to be a worthy chase.”

Vesemir shrugged. The wolf wasn’t wrong; he’d been drinking his meals. He waved at himself. “Vesemir.”

“Ben Gezo.”

* * *

Ben’s cabin was a half day’s walk from the village, far enough that no one would hear him scream. Far enough that two days later, Ben could shift into his humanoid wolf shape without the worry of being seen. Ben stood taller than Vesemir as a man by two fingers, as a werewolf, Vesemir’s eyes leveled with Ben’s nipples. He’d never been able to examine a living werewolf closely, and Ben patiently stood motionless as Vesemir explored his body. 

He wore no clothing. As a born werewolf, he had control over his transformations and chose not to ruin his things. His head was remarkably wolf-like. Other than the immense size, taken alone, it could be mistaken for a wolf. 

“Can you speak like this?”

“Yes.” Ben’s voice was low and growly, but clearer than it had any right to be. Magical properties of speech, then. 

His limbs had elongated, especially the arms—quadrupedal locomotion possible. The fingers ended in wicked claws as long as Vesemir’s hands. “You can keep these to yourself?”

“Wear armor.” Ben’s tongue lolled out the side of his mouth like a dog pleased with itself. 

“Noted. Are you providing coin to repair it after?”

“I have a jerkin for you.”

Vesemir nodded. Ben had less fur than he expected. Much of his front was bare, leaving his leathery, dark grey skin exposed. Black fur grew thicker around his groin, almost obscuring his sheathed penis. There was no hiding the large, heavy balls hanging between his legs, easily four times as large as a human’s. 

Ben took a step forward, close enough that his increased body heat radiated through Vesemir’s linen clothes. “Like what you see?”

“How—” Vesemir cleared his throat. “How does this work?”

“Generally, one removes their clothing as the first step. No need for the armor here. I’ll grip the bed rails.”

Vesemir didn’t grace that with a reply. 

After he stripped, he knelt on the bed, wondering if he’d lost his mind. Ben hadn’t shown him the knot at the base of his penis, but it had to exist. Ben was too canine for it to be absent. The thought of locking them together while Ben pumped inhuman amounts of come into him should terrify him. 

It didn’t.

Ben brushed his human fingers over Vesemir’s hole—thank Melitele he’d shifted back to begin human—before setting immediately to work. He worked the grease in deep, finger fucking him hard and fast. Vesemir gritted his teeth and grunted with it. His cock hung heavy between his legs, flopping with every jerk of Ben’s hand. 

“You truly enjoy this, don’t you?”

“Why else would I agree?” Vesemir said between pants. 

Ben twisted his hand, four fingers knuckle deep inside him, stretching, pressing against the remaining resistance. “I like you, Witcher.”

“Fuck me already.”

“It might work.” He stepped away to shift back to his werewolf form. 

Vesemir pressed his shoulders and cheek against the mattress, sucking in air to catch his breath. His arms bracketed his head, one hand loosely clasping his other wrist, blocking most of his vision. 

“Feet on the floor.”

As soon as he scrambled into place, Ben’s giant hands pressed into the mattress on either side of him; the claws curled carefully to avoid slicing his wrists. The fur of the partial sheath rutted against the cleft of Vesemir’s ass several times before Ben’s erection shot his penis clear of the sheath. It sat heavily on his back, long, wet, and radiating werewolf heat. Vesemir hadn’t considered this part. Guiding it in with care was impossible with the massive claws. 

Ben shifted his hips, thrusting blindly, poking high and low. The tip was pointed, sharper than a human cock. Vesemir was about to protest his frustration when the werewolf found his aim. One glorious, long slide that felt like it would never end. How long was it? The heat made him twitch, and Ben licked at the nape of his neck, whining. He could bite. His teeth would handily fit over Vesemir’s neck and contained the power to snap his spine… But after a few licks, Ben straightened and fucked into him. The impossibly long cock must surely be visible pushing against the inside of his abdomen! The thought sent shocks through his cock, and Vesemir nearly came right then. 

He focused on slowing his breathing, listed alchemical formulas, even as he gasped under the onslaught until he wasn’t in danger of spilling early. Ben rammed into him hard enough to thump the bed against the wall, forcing a grunt from him with each thrust. Hard, fast, and just on the side of pain that he needed right now, and Vesemir grinned, pushing back into it. Ben stood up, gripped the bedposts, and pounded into Vesemir, knocking his feet free of the floor. Vesemir screamed and tangled his hands in the blanket, trying to find an anchor. It hurt. And it was glorious. It wiped his mind of everything but the sensation of getting fucked. 

Ben slowed, panting hard. “You good?” He punctuated his query with a hard snap of his hips.

“Yes!” Vesemir yelped. 

The bed bounced as Ben’s fists slammed on either side of Vesemir. “Good,” the werewolf growled. 

He licked Vesemir’s neck, tongue long and wet and rough. His hips moved slower, less powerful, and Vesemir moaned obscenely. “So good.”

The expected knot swelled—pressing, stretching—and with each thrust, it grew. Vesemir keened as it grew larger and larger. 

Finally, Ben rammed against him, and the knot caught, his ass refusing to open any further to let it pass. 

“Can’t. Can’t fit,” Vesemir panted. 

“It will,” Ben said, pushing, pushing, pressure such as Vesemir had never felt in his life.

Vesemir tried to relax, tried to allow it, but the pain grew too much. “Stop!”

Ben pulled out. “I was sure a Witcher could take it. I’m still sure. We need more lead-in.”

“No, no. I can’t do it.” 

A few minutes later, Ben’s—human!—hand was in his ass, the knuckles moving over his prostate, and Vesemir saw stars. He’d never—fuck. Thought skittered away with a twist of Ben’s wrist. Nothing mattered aside from the movements of Ben’s hand moving within him. The moment the remaining tension left his body, he knew he’d be able to take the knot. 

“That’s it. That’s what we need,” Ben murmured. His hand slipped out of Vesemir and pushed back in without protest. In and out, again and again, and Vesemir felt his orgasm building. “Now, we finish this.”

Ben transformed, and Vesemir was so loose that Ben’s cock, which had felt so big initially, seemed lacking now. It was a relief when the beginnings of the knot pushed past his rim. 

“Yes! Like that. More!” Vesemir roared as the knot popped in and out of him, growing larger with every thrust until even as open as he was, it took effort to push it inside. Ben rocked against him, his heavy, furry balls providing much-needed friction on Vesemir’s neglected cock and balls. The knot grew, intensifying the pressure on his prostate. The rocking quickened, and Vesemir couldn’t hold back his orgasm any longer. He came hard, spurting across the bed, his ass clenching hard around the giant knot, putting even more pressure on his prostate. 

Ben came with a howl and the loop between them as Vesemir clenched and jerked and twitched helplessly, his orgasm going and going and going until it left him limp and exhausted underneath Ben’s too hot body. The wolf’s hips shuddered at regular intervals, working at oversensitive places within him, pumping wave after wave of come inside him. He felt heavy with it. 

Too heavy. Too hot. Too much. It spiraled within Vesemir, working him nigh into a panic until Ben’s worried whine sounded in his ear. The rough, wet tongue laved his face, his neck, his back, serving as a counterpoint and distraction, and he accepted the werewolf scooping him up. They ended up on the floor, Vesemir in Ben’s lap, locked together by the knot, Ben still pumping come into him, but cradling him in his arms, and it was good.


	2. Hide and Seek

###  **Chapter Two: Hide and Seek**

Vesemir ran. He needed distance. Distance first, tactics second. Ben pledged him a head start. Darkness gathered rapidly under the forest canopy. A human would be stumbling blindly. Vesemir fetched up against a tree, breathing hard. The jerkin Ben provided was thick, stiffer than his armor, and had a rigid protrusion covering the back and sides of his neck. The weight and unfamiliar shape hampered his agility. Ben’s odor permeated the heavy wolf skin covering the back of it, blinding his nose. 

Time to start confusing the trail. He backtracked and changed direction. He climbed into the trees even though the bark scraped his bare legs. To avoid having his pants ripped to shreds at the end of the chase, he wore only boots, his long, loose tunic, and the jerkin. Imagining the werewolf trying to follow his trail this far off the ground was worth the stinging irritation. Intentional scent marking, backtracking, every trick he knew, Vesemir employed until he heard the howl that meant Ben was on his trail. 

He went to ground to wait. His chosen spot was near his crisscrossing paths. Safely downwind, he monitored Ben's progress. Listened to him race along the first trail and suppressed a grin as Ben came back, snuffling and grumbling at discovering the backtrack. The night wore on as Ben followed one false path after another, and Vesemir worried. What if he'd played too hard to get? What if all the effort and energy of running had been wasted? What if he'd spent the last three days with another man's hand and arm in his ass only to ruin the big show by hiding too well. 

Ben came back to the nexus of his trails again. He should have found this spot the direction he'd last gone. He should have—Ben's golden, glowing werewolf eyes turned on him. Stared directly at him. One step forward. Two. Guttural growling. Not the playful sounds Vesemir'd heard the last few days. These lifted the hairs on the back of his neck and his arms and reminded him that a monster stood before him. A monster easily capable of killing a fully armored witcher dosed on potions and carrying an oiled silver sword. The only oil he had was the liberal quantities they'd applied before he began his run.

He’d thought the game would feel like just that. A game. And it had until now. But in the deep dark of the forest, with the werewolf treading closer and closer, a primal fear awakened, and Vesemir broke cover. The beast was too close, too close, and he needed distance. His long shirttails flapped around his knees as he ran. Claws tore into leaf litter behind him. A howl, calling the non-existent pack to the chase, seemed to come from all around him. He ran, expecting every moment to be taken down. 

Vesemir dodged between the trees, over rocks, across his own trails. He circled back to the nexus and paused. He'd left the werewolf behind. He needed a space to hide, to catch his breath. He turned and followed his first path. _There!_ He rolled into the deep hollow under a giant oak's roots and curled up small. Had he angered the wolf? He'd pledged to hunt Vesemir down, but that sound.

Quiet snuffling heralded Ben's approach. He drew closer and closer. A shaft of moonlight fell on Ben, creating a halo around him. He crouched on all fours, his shaggy wolf head low to the ground, sniffing, swinging side to side as he followed the trail. His eyes reflected the light, and Vesemir held his breath as those beacons swept over him. 

The werewolf continued on the old track and passed him by. 

Vesemir let out a shaky breath. He needed to calm down. This was Ben, not some feral monster out to eat him. He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. 

"Boo, little rabbit!" Ben's sharp teeth grinned just behind him. He'd circled around the roots, could have snapped him up as he sat unaware of the danger. 

Vesemir shot out of the hole and ran. He ran without a plan or purpose. His heart pounded, his mind blank of everything but _escape, escape, escape_! 

The forest's eerie silence pressed against his senses when he shook off rabbit mode. He stopped and spun in place. Which direction did he need to go? He completed the turn, only to freeze at the reflective yellow eyes staring at him from far too close. He took a step back as the werewolf stepped forward. 

“ _Run_." The order came with a snap of the werewolf's teeth. 

Vesemir fled. Adrenaline coursed through him. Crashing in the woods to his left sent him haring off to the right. Claws tearing into the ground behind him spurred him on. His sides heaved like bellows. Sweat poured off him. He burst through a patch of underbrush into a clearing bathed in moonlight. His steps faltered at the sudden influx of light. 

The werewolf slammed into his back, forced him to the ground. Jaws clamped onto the protective neck armor, stopping the teeth but not the pressure. The instinct to never give up, to fight for his life spiked, and Vesemir struggled in the grip. He clawed at the ground, dug his toes in, roared his anger at the trap he found himself in. The werewolf covered him with his body, maintained the tight grip on his neck until the need to fight passed and Vesemir went limp. 

This was a game. He was meant to be playing a role and had a night of intense fucking to look forward to. Fixing that firmly in his mind transformed the weight draped over him and the pressure of the teeth holding him place into comforting reminders of his position here. 

At a questioning growl from the werewolf, Vesemir whined his surrender. 

Ben rolled off him, circling with his chest thrust out. A triumphant strut. He stopped in front of Vesemir and howled, long and loud, announcing to the world his claim of this mating chase.

Vesemir lay before the apex predator, knowing he was helpless before it. Fear, panic, morose misery that drove him to drink—all of it washed away. He had to think about nothing, do nothing but present himself to be claimed. He scrambled to his knees. Ass up in the air, head and shoulders on the ground signaling for the wolf to take his prize, he trembled with anticipation. 

The howling stopped, and excited snuffling trailed over him from head to ass. The cold wolf nose touched his balls, and he yelped and lurched forward. There was a ferocious growl, and the jaws clamped over Vesemir’s neck again until he stopped moving and whined. 

Satisfied by the show of submission, the werewolf released his teeth and those wicked, long claws wrapped around Vesemir’s midsection. The clumsy, blind aiming began, jabbing into his balls under him, slipping up to his back before finally catching. The hot, heavy cock shoved into him one merciless push, the wolf not letting up until his massive balls slammed into Vesemir's cock and balls. The impact forced a cry from him; the pleasure-pain sending shocks up his spine. 

If he’d thought the fucking Ben’d given him over the bed had been rough, this was brutal. Able to grip safely thanks to the jerkin, excited by the chase and the moon, the creature fucked Vesemir as he pleased, bending him, lifting him off the ground. Jerking him back to meet each thrust. Using him. At any moment, the tenuous grip the werewolf had on his control could snap, and…

Vesemir came hard, spilling into the dirt. The werewolf howled his delight and kept fucking him. Oversensitivity came, and he whined and moaned and shook through it until it circled around to excitement. His erection returned as the knot formed. The knot popped in and out of his hole several times, making him howl before the wolf shoved it in deep and let it lock them together. It grew and grew—bigger than the first time they’d fucked—so big he wondered how it didn’t tear him apart. 

The pressure on his prostate, battered and sensitive as it was, made him see sparks of light behind his eyelids. With a whine, the wolf shifted within him, nudges and jerks, rocking the pressure over Vesemir’s prostate until it pushed him over the edge a second time. He clenched hard, and the werewolf came with a howl. 

He blinked, and they had changed positions, laying on their sides locked together. Ben licked his face. The knot had shrunk, or he’d gotten less sensitive to the pressure. They lay crushed together for several more minutes, Ben rocking his hips, moving his cock more each time, groaning as he came over and over. 

It didn’t end there. By the time the knot easily popped in and out of Vesemir's ass, Ben shifted them. Spinning Vesemir around to face him and gripping him under the arms to bounce him on the cock. He knotted a second time, and a third, and a fourth, and Vesemir came so many times he lost count.

By the time dawn broke, he could barely hold his head up or keep his eyes open. He was numb and exhausted. His insides sloshed with werewolf come. A visible swell in his lower stomach attested to the volume pumped into him. The sight thrilled him in ways he didn’t understand. The entire night thrilled him. Tomorrow he’d grump and grouse and be sore, but nothing had ever pushed him and gratified him as this had. 

With a grunt, Ben pulled out of him and lay him in the dirt. Come oozed out of him. A very human face peered down at him. “Are you hurt?”

“Don’t think so.”

Ben ran his hand over the swell of Vesemir’s stomach, his expression full of awe. “Beautiful. For a moment, I can pretend that I’ve bred you full of pups.” He kissed Vesemir’s stomach and worked his way up to his mouth. Light touches, playful nips. As the sun rose, Ben held him, kissing him, rubbing over his stomach. "You ran well, Witcher. Any wolf would be proud to mate you."

Vesemir didn’t remember the trip back to Ben’s cabin, the stop at the stream to be washed, or being tucked into the bed. He spent another week with Ben before they separated, wishing the other luck on their journeys. He felt _settled_ within himself. He'd needed the reminder that his choices and control were not unlimited, and he could either rail at that and fight until it killed him, or he could take contracts, earn coin, send supplies to Morgraig, rescue more boys, and try harder to make them understand that lesson. 

Vesemir ran his hand over his flat, tight stomach and remembered how Ben ran his hand over it. Playing mate to a werewolf had been a lesson in humility, but it'd also unlocked a desire he'd never known lay within him. He vowed to himself to return the next year. 

Everyone needed reminders, after all.


End file.
